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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556226">Possessive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard'>draculard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Claiming Bites, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:00:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're immature," Pellaeon said, rubbing at the red spot on his neck. "How bad is it?"</p><p>"Highly visible," Thrawn said.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Possessive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pellaeon arched his neck without thinking about it, giving Thrawn all the access he needed. He was more focused on Thrawn’s hands (currently positioned on Pellaeon’s thighs) and his hips (currently slotted against Pellaeon’s hips, their cocks pressed against each other) than he was on Thrawn’s lips. He barely noticed the open-mouthed kisses trailing down the line of his jaw, or the blunt edge of Thrawn’s teeth against his skin.</p><p>Of course, he certainly noticed when those teeth <em> bit down</em>.</p><p>“Ah, Thrawn!” Pellaeon protested, putting his hands on Thrawn’s chest and shoving him away by reflex. Thrawn refused to be budged. His teeth clamped down on Pellaeon’s pulse point hard enough for him to worry his skin might break. He twisted his neck away and finally Thrawn stopped biting, laving and sucking at the area instead.</p><p>Pellaeon waited until he was done and then pushed him away again. This time, Thrawn went. He sat on his heels and looked down at Pellaeon, seemingly satisfied with his work.</p><p>“You’re immature,” Pellaeon told him, rubbing at the red spot. “How bad is it?”</p><p>“Highly visible,” said Thrawn, sounding rather pleased with himself. </p><p>“Highly visible above my uniform?” Pellaeon asked, his voice sharp.</p><p>Thrawn equivocated for a moment and then decided the best answer was to shift down further on the bed and put his mouth on Pellaeon’s cock. Whatever he mumbled after that was inaudible; his voice vibrated against Pellaeon’s cock, each word tripping up the length of him and traveling straight to his core. </p><p>He tipped his head back and groaned; after a moment with Thrawn’s tongue hot and wet against him, he decided to let the question go.</p><p>He supposed he’d find out in the morning.</p><hr/><p>Pellaeon dressed slowly, sore from the night before and glowering in the mirror the whole time. He adjusted his collar, tugging the fabric farther up on his neck in a futile attempt to cover the purple bruise just beneath his jaw.  </p><p>It absolutely <em> was </em> visible above his uniform. He scowled at his reflection and tilted his head to the side, experimenting with different ways to hold his head. It didn’t matter; the hickey would be visible no matter how hard he craned his neck. And if he kept his shoulder hitched up to his chin, everyone would notice something was wrong, anyway.</p><p>Cover stories, Pellaeon told himself, trying desperately to drum something up. Secret mission gone wrong? That might work on bridge crew, so long as they didn’t double-check with anyone working the hangars. Alien parasites? Certainly, nobody could fact-check him on that one — the medical droids would never tell — but it might be better to admit to a hickey than to have his men side-eye him over the fictional worms beneath his skin.</p><p>He prodded the bruise with his fingers and grimaced at himself in the mirror. When he scratched the center of the bruise, he could almost pretend the sharp edge of his fingernail was Thrawn’s teeth.</p><p>Which was not exactly a responsible thing to think about before starting his shift.</p><p>He sighed through his nose and sealed his tunic, fixing the collar as best he could. The walk to the bridge felt longer than usual; Pellaeon kept his spine stiff and his chin up, pretending he didn’t notice the occasional stares cast his way from troopers and techs he passed in the passageway.</p><p>He paused in the doorway to the bridge, skin prickling, and sat through the first anxiety-riddled minutes as countless ensigns and lieutenants glanced his way, spotted the hickey, and carefully organized their faces into blank masks. He waited for one of them — any of them — to be foolish enough to say something.</p><p>None of them were.</p><p>Feeling somewhat relieved, Pellaeon made his rounds. There were no undue stares; no one allowed their eyes to linger too long on the bruise; no one asked any questions or made any insinuations. He stopped by each crew pit, receiving the night shift’s reports from the supervisors, and finally made his way back to Thrawn’s command chair feeling a little lighter and more at ease with himself.</p><p>“The reports, sir,” he said.</p><p>Thrawn held his hand out palm up and Pellaeon slipped the datacards into his hand, letting his own fingers trail briefly over Thrawn’s skin. He watched as Thrawn slotted each one into his datapad, giving them a cursory look-over before returning to the star map of the Core Worlds he’d had up prior to Pellaeon’s arrival.</p><p>“Thank you, Captain,” said Thrawn, not glancing Pellaoen’s way. Then, raising his voice significantly, “Interesting bruise you’ve got there. Some sort of training accident?”</p><p>Behind him, Pellaeon heard muffled snorts of laughter in the crew pits.</p><hr/><p>He got his revenge as soon as Thrawn entered his quarters that night. Pellaeon was waiting for him — had been waiting there ever since his own shift ended and Thrawn absconded to his command room. As soon as he heard the whir of Thrawn’s code cylinders, he planted himself on the other side of the door and waited for Thrawn to come through.</p><p>He’d barely made it inside before Pellaeon grabbed him by the front of his uniform, hauling Thrawn up against the wall. His fingers twisted in Thrawn’s hair, tipping his head back, exposing the pale blue flesh of his neck. </p><p>“Possessive,” Thrawn murmured when Pellaeon’s teeth found his pulse point. His hands came up to rest on Pellaeon’s hips, his grip loose and contemplative. </p><p>“<em>I’m </em> possessive?” Pellaeon responded, pulling back a little to give Thrawn an incredulous look. “Not only did you give me a hickey like some sort of uncontrolled adolescent, but you also felt the need to <em> point it out </em> in front of the entire bridge crew — as if they’d miss it!”</p><p>Thrawn gazed at him, eyes hooded and unimpressed. He tilted his jaw up; gripping Pellaeon’s hips a little harder, he tugged him forward.</p><p>“Fine,” he said, his neck bared and his eyes glowing. He tapped his fingers against Pellaeon’s thigh, urging him closer. “<em>I’m </em> possessive. But <em> you </em> didn’t finish.”</p><p>With an exasperated huff, Pellaeon bent his head down and found Thrawn’s pulse point again.</p>
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